


Belonging

by kashumaguflu



Series: acotar drabbles [7]
Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-05
Updated: 2017-01-05
Packaged: 2018-09-14 22:20:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9205904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kashumaguflu/pseuds/kashumaguflu
Summary: Written for the following prompt asked on my tumblr:“I want you and I know you want me too.”





	

Last night, I was told I needed to practice my reading and writing skills. Of course, that meant copying down Rhysand’s egotistical compliments about himself. Underneath my heavy sighs and eye rolls, I was grateful for him taking the time to help me learn. Those lessons, no matter how frustrating they could be, made me grow stronger. It made me feel powerful and more in control of myself. I hated not being able to read or write simple words and sentences. 

 

But I would never tell the prick how much I appreciated it. His ego was big enough as it was.

 

Rhysand and I were seated around the giant dining table of his townhouse. I was scooping more melon onto my plate when he opened his mouth.

 

“Did you sleep well?” 

 

I looked up to find him studying me, specifically the forkful of fruit meeting my lips. He was constantly watching me eat, which made me uneasy. I knew I had suffered greatly in the Spring Court. The long nights of emptying the contents of my already shallow stomach had had a lasting effect on my body. I always felt drained, both emotionally and physically, and incredibly weak. I didn’t know why Rhysand cared so much, but it felt nice to have someone look out for me for once.

 

I swallowed the fruit. “Yes,” I said simply, staring at the crystal bowls lining the table.

 

I felt his piercing eyes on the side of my face, but I refused to look at him. Whenever I did, he made me feel things -- different from how I felt around Tamlin. I was comfortable around Rhys. I felt free to speak my thoughts aloud, and he listened -- really listened and understood.

 

I cautiously raised my eyes to meet his. Those violet eyes were downturned, a small wrinkle forming between his dark slanted brows. His fingers lightly grasped the edges of the table, as if he needed something to hold on to. “Talk to me, Feyre,” he said softly. 

 

I blinked. 

 

“Please don’t shut me out.” His eyes seemed to reach into my soul -- or what was left of it. “I can help you, Feyre.”

 

I closed my eyes to block out his sharp gaze. I wanted to let him in, I really did. It would be such a relief to release all of that pain bearing down on my heart, to finally let someone in to listen to my brokenness, but I didn’t want to get hurt -- not again.

 

The suffocation of my life while in the Spring Court and under Tamlin’s control had done a number on me. I was broken in ways I didn’t believe would ever be fixed -- but maybe Rhys could heal my shattered soul.

 

I heard soft footsteps travel around the table to where I was seated, and sensed a body kneel down next to me.

 

“Feyre darling,” Rhysand whispered. I felt his hand move to brush a loose strand of hair away from my face. The warm hand rested on my cheek, the calloused skin of his thumb lightly scraping against my cheekbone, wiping away the wetness of an escaped tear. “Please, Feyre. Let me in.”

 

My eyes opened at the sound of his broken plea. I turned in my seat, causing his hand to drop to my shoulder, the sharp bones poking through the thin fabric of my shirt. I felt the slight shake of Rhys’s hand, his fingers imperceptibly tightening on my shoulder. “I don’t know how to let anyone in,” I breathed.

 

I could almost feel Rhysand’s heart shatter at my words. “Then I’ll help you learn how,” he said, his voice hoarse. 

 

I blinked back the sting of fresh tears. “Okay.”

 

“I know you crave to belong somewhere,” he said quietly. “So belong here -- with me.” The corners of his lips turned up slightly, causing my heart to beat faster. Rhysand brought my tattooed hand up to his mouth and kissed my palm softly. He locked his hopeful eyes on mine before saying, “I want you, Feyre,” he rasped, “and I know you want me, too.” 

 

My eyes widened. How could he have possible known about my feelings for him when I barely knew them myself? I watched him watch me, his violet eyes darkening slightly. 

 

I nodded faintly. _I do want you,_ I thought. “I do want that,” I whispered instead. “But I’m scared.” A tear trailed down my cheek.

 

Rhys grasped my hand in his before saying, “I’m not him, Feyre. I would _never_ suppress your hopes and dreams -- I _want_ to listen to them.” He tightened his grip on my hand. “I crave your thoughts and the beauty of your mind. I know _you_ , Feyre darling. I respect and adore you more than words can express.” He leaned forward and pressed his lips to my cheek, kissing away my tears like he did all those months ago, and my hands tightened against the armrest of my chair. “And I will never, _never_ lock you up, physically or mentally. You are free here, with me and my family.” He paused, and swallowed, his throat bobbing nervoulsy. “Join my family, Feyre,” he said quietly.

 

More tears ran down my pale cheeks. I leaned forward and buried my face into Rhysand’s dark tunic. “Thank you, Rhys,” I said.

I felt his body stiffen at my use of his nickname -- the name his friends and family used, because I was his family. I smiled at the thought.

 

I finally belonged.


End file.
